


Young Love

by Behind_The_Hood



Series: Captive Prince Tumblr Drabbles, Snippets, and Prompts [9]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Age Alteration, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, First Crush, M/M, Pacifist Laurent, Pining, Unrequited Crush, War, Worried Auguste, confused damen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-07-12 08:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Behind_The_Hood/pseuds/Behind_The_Hood
Summary: Why is it that the first person to take him seriously is the enemy?





	1. Chapter 1

Auguste and Damianos meet on the field, alone. The bodies had been cleared, the blood on the ground given a single day to dry, both armies held back.

Single battle. Not necessarily to the death, but should one of them fall, that would be that.

Auguste stands in his plate armor, shining in the sunlight as much as his golden hair does.

Damianos stands ten feet away, his leathers freshened and sword sharpened.

Both sides stand in silence, helpless to watch as one prince or the other fights and falls.

They haven’t drawn their swords yet. They’ve barely taken their eyes off one another long enough to blink, let alone shake hands first, as was agreed.

“Wait!”

Damianos’ eyes flicker to the Veretian camp.

“Auguste!”

Auguste’s eyes widen when he realizes it’s Laurent’s voice.

“Grab him!” he shouts to the men behind him before Laurent can break through the lines.

Metal clanks, and there’s the sound of a child struggling in the hold of someone much older and much stronger than himself.

“Auguste, _please_!” he hears Laurent cry, his voice breaking with it.

He takes a breath, his hands curling into fists. Damianos will run him through the second he turns. A single, solid thrust through his back and out his chest.

“Stop!” a soldier shouts. “Your Highness!”

Auguste draws his sword then, and halts Laurent from progressing any farther with the flat on his blade.

Damianos draws as well.

Laurent, barely more than a babe, wraps his arms around Auguste’s waist, tears smeared down his cheeks.

Their mother had brought him with them to the battle, on Laurent’s insistence. Meaning he’d had a fit and their mother couldn’t bare to see her baby crying.

A sixteen year gap in their ages and with no father around, Laurent relied heavily upon Auguste.

Damianos is barely seventeen, sword ready to stab another man through for his country, but the sobbing child wrapped around his enemy’s side gives him pause.

Auguste lowers his sword when it’s clear Laurent isn’t here to charge the Akielon. “Laurent, return to Mother.”

Laurent shakes his head. “Not without you.”

“ _Go, Laurent_.”

“No!”

Damianos watches the exchange with an odd feeling in his chest. He can’t remember a time when he and Kastor were that close.

“Don’t hurt the child,” Auguste says to him, eyes narrowed.

Damianos shakes his head. “He’s an innocent. I’ve more honor than to run a child through.”

“You have no honor at all, you monster!”

“Laurent!”

Auguste doesn’t pull his eyes away from the blood thirsty teen before him. Akielos has been itching to go to war for as long as Delfeur has been under Veretian rule. Damianos is looking to prove himself to his people and his father.

Laurent shouldn’t provoke him.

Damianos dares to let his eyes fall to Laurent. Auguste will not fight with his brother on the field. He raises a brow at the boy glaring daggers at him from behind Auguste.

“How old are you?”

Laurent purses his lips, arms tightening around Auguste’s waist. “I’ll be ten in spring.”

Small for a nine year old, even by Veretian standards.

The armies around them are starting to rumble with noise, voices talking to one another to figure out what’s happening between all the princes.

“Listen to your brother, Laurent,” Damianos says.

“No!”

Auguste feels trapped between a rock and a hard place. Their mother cannot risk stepping to the field. The Akielons would have the whole line of succession in Vere sitting right before them, like pigs to the slaughter.

Akielons pride themselves on being more honorable than Veretians, but that isn’t a hard feat to accomplish and Auguste isn’t impressed.

Damianos isn’t sure how to proceed with a child on the field. He won’t leave on his own, and will fight anyone who tries to take him away.

Damianos takes a few steps back and disengages, placing his sword back in its sheath. “Remove the child from the field. We’ll proceed when you return.”

Auguste straightens, then nods.

“No!” Laurent screams, stepping away from Auguste.

Auguste reaches for Laurent, and he slips passed him, running straight for Damianos.

He watches in horror as Laurent hides behind Damianos, wrapping his arms around the bewildered teen’s waist.

“No!”

Damianos has a child around his waist. A Veretian child. Is…Is he being held hostage…?

What does he do in this situation?

Auguste stands frozen across from him, his eyes wide with fear.

Laurent is glaring at him, peeking behind Damianos’ back. “I’m not leaving if it means you could die!” he shouts.

_You could die!_ Auguste thinks as terror runs cold through his veins. He doesn’t dare say it out loud. The Akielons are confused and unsure, and he will not point out that they could ransom Laurent.

“Return to your brother,” Damianos says. The child glares up at him. Ballsy for someone so small and unprotected. He isn’t even in leathers, just velvet and laces.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

“It seems you take orders from no one.”

Laurent squeezes tighter around his middle in retaliation. “Stop the fighting.”

Damianos raises a brow. “What?”

“Stop the fighting, or you’ll never be rid of me.”

He makes it sound as though he’s threatening a curse upon Damianos’ household. It nearly brings a laugh to his lips.

“What do you propose then?”

Laurent blinks up at him, owlishly, his grip falling a little loose. “You’ll listen?”

Damianos glances over at Auguste, standing rigid and nervous several feet away. He isn’t going for his sword, yet.

He looks back down at Laurent, still staring up at him in wonder. “I’ll listen.”

A smile creeps at the corner of the boy’s lips, color coming to his cheeks, a shine to his eyes. “Really?”

Damianos gives a nod. “That’s all I’ll promise though.” Whatever the boy says, if it’s worthwhile, will have to be run by his father first, and approved of after.

His father stands at the front lines now, and not a step closer for the Veretian archers that train on him the moment he reveals himself.

To keep the fight fair, no other fighter steps onto the field. The archers are to ensure that, for both sides. Laurent is very lucky to not be stuck dead in the dirt right now.

“Peace,” Laurent says in a single, relieved breath.

Damianos nods. “How do you propose we come to that?”

“Split the land. Share the profits. Neutralize Delfeur. Agree to open trading routes,” Laurent lists off, and brings Damianos to pause.

Those are not…terrible ideas, actually. “And you told your family of this?”

His brows furrow. “I tried. No one would listen to me.”

Auguste can see them talking, Damianos twisted funny to look down at Laurent. Laurent barely comes up to the teen’s hip, and he isn’t done growing yet. Damianos will be a beast of a man one day.

He can’t make out their words, can barely see Laurent at all. But Damianos isn’t showing signs of aggression in his body language or on his face. He worries for what Laurent may say though, how he may try to raise the teen’s ire.

Laurent beams up at Damianos, nearly hugging him. “You’ll speak with your father then?”

“I shall,” Damianos agrees.

“And you won’t hurt my brother?”

“Not if I can help it,” he says. “You have to get your mother to agree as well though, or this is fruitless and we’ll be right back here tomorrow.”

Laurent frowns, cherubic face pouting. He tightens his arms once more, locking himself in place. “I need your word, Damianos.”

_I thought I was an honorless monster?_ Damianos thinks with a little humor. “I cannot give you a promise I may not be able to keep, little prince. My father has wanted war for a long time.”

Laurent doesn’t let up. “My mother is very sick, Damianos. Auguste is all I will have soon.”

Auguste feels tense as Damianos finally moves, but he only lifts Laurent into his arms and carries him to Auguste, passing him off without a word to Auguste.

He gives Laurent a smile, and a small bow. “You are wise beyond your years, little prince.” And he leaves with that.

Auguste watches dumbfounded as Damianos returns to his father, and guides him away. “What happened?”

“Peace,” Laurent says, curling into Auguste’s arms. “We need to talk to Mother.”

Auguste nods, taking a few guarded steps away from the Akielons, watching as they fold back to their camp, then hurrying to return to their mother with whatever news Laurent has to share.

Laurent smiles, tucking his face against Auguste’s plate protected shoulder. Auguste is walking away with his life. That’s all Laurent cares about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: You get back here right this second and write 150k more of this short story!!! Please, pretty please! I will not leave this inbox until I have lamen.. it was so good and I need more, I need them to grow up together and for Laurent to visit for other negotiations and for Damen to struggle with Laurent’s boyish fixation and his own inappropriate growing crush until he can’t help himself - until we get lamen!!! So ehm please and thank you!

The next time Damianos visits Vere, it’s because Laurent insisted he be invited to Laurent’s tenth spring celebration. He’s doubly excited because not only had Damianos accepted the invitation, but their mother was well enough to attend as well.

Laurent had been restless since returning from the battlefield, and all he could talk about was Damianos.

When he returned home, he read every book he could reach in the library that pertained to Akielos; so he would have ‘sufficient knowledge to hold a conversation.’

Auguste had found his little brother’s little crush amusing.

At first.

* * *

When Damianos arrives in Vere, the princes-–and several guards-–are waiting off the dock on horseback. Auguste is on a white horse, standing regale even in all the decoration hanging off its body. Laurent is on a near black dapple grey, too young to have earned its lighter coat just yet, but big enough for him to look small sitting on its back. There’s less decoration on Laurent’s horse, if only barely.

Damianos’ stallion, by comparison, looks too big and bland, but he’s powerful and sturdy, which is the type of horse Damianos needs.

Laurent’s smile is big and bright when Damianos steps off, his lip bit between his teeth and squirming on his saddle. Auguste is straight faced and stiff next to him. His expression is hard to read, but if Damianos had to guess, he would assume Auguste did not want him here.

“You came!” Laurent squeals. He shimmies off the side of his horse, Auguste watching Laurent with that same expression on his face, and his eyes remain glued to him even as he throws his arms around Damianos’ waist.

Laurent is beaming, his eyes shining.

Damainos smiles. “Of course I came. And I came bearing gifts as well,” he says.

Laurent gasps, then starts bouncing in place. “Can I see?”

Damianos pets his head, chuckling. “You must wait for your celebration to begin.”

He pouts. “That’s two weeks away.”

“Laurent,” Auguste calls, steering his horse around. “Back on the saddle, we must return quickly.”

Damianos helps Laurent back on his horse because he needs a mounting step and one is not available. Also because he had asked Damianos to do it with big pleading eyes, even after Auguste had offered.

They must go at a slow pace for the caravan of Damianos’ effects traveling with them, which puts them off their return time by nearly two days.

The princes don’t seem perturb by it though, as they walk through towns and slow to speak with their subjects where they can, smiling and joking, even if they cannot truly stop. Several of them wish Laurent a pleasant spring and hand him little trinkets.

His saddle bags are full to bursting by the time they’ve made it to Arles.

The castle isn’t much bigger than Damianos’ palace back in Ios, but it is taller, and the land surrounding it more sprawling. Caged in by tall, brick walls and heavily guarded entrances.

“They’re to keep the subjects safe, should someone attempt to cause harm,” Auguste says.

“And they keep the bad people out!” Laurent adds helpfully.

“Bad people?” Damianos mutters, but Laurent hears him anyway.

He nods, solemnly. “The ones trying to hurt Mother.”

“Little brother,” Auguste says, his tone flat but even Damianos can hear the warning lying dormant behind it. “That isn’t information to be shared so freely.”

“But Damianos is our friend.”

Auguste doesn’t respond, and with him being a few paces in front of Laurent and Damianos, they cannot see his expression.

He and Damianos had been ready to cut each other down not many seasons ago; it isn’t unrealistic for Auguste not to wholly trust him. Especially living in Vere.

“There’s a reason we don’t have many friends, Laurent.”


End file.
